We get food free of charge,and we work free of charge.Everything else is a questionof habit. Our hair is cutfor free, the barber smilesand asks about my son.It is possible to geta free book at a bookstore,and return it for free to anotherif we are bored. They don’t wantany money for a tram ticket.If we are in trouble,we can leave a wedding ringin an ill-lit room, to be storedfree of charge for safe-keeping.And then for a while the currentwill flow free of charge.

I am sitting before the TV,slippers on my feet, my handon the telephone, ready to liftthe receiver before it rings.Now important thingsstart to happen. The toastersmokes, an iciclefalls into a flowerbox. Spring,that pompous garbageman,is coming. I can see himbehind the screenuntil he fogs it with his breath.There is no other newsworth reporting.